Juliet and Her Romeo
by suessepup
Summary: Arthur always comes to the theater to watch the actors perform the plays of his beloved play-writer William Shakespeare. Well, what happens if he finally meets the actor that captures his heart every time? One-shot.


"A glooming peace this morning with it brings;  
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:  
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;  
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:  
For never was a story of more woe  
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

The curtains drew as the last of the actors walked off stage. The play had finally come to an end but the miserable story would return to this stage again the next day with the actors. And Arthur would return to his spot and watch the actors walk across the stage until he no longer could find a stage that still held the beloved plays of his. He spent his free time here, watching the actors express tales of woe and humor. He had not spoken to anyone but the man who wrote the play, William Shakespeare. He was just a face in the audience from what he believed.

"Pardon me Arthur, but I think I'll be returning back to the castle. Will you be here until they get done then?" the woman next to him inquired. His boss or the queen stood in an elegant dress. She smiled at the young man next to him when his teary eyes were torn from the stage.

"Yes, your highness," he replied. "Shall I see you to your carriage though?" The male stood to his feet and offered his arm to the woman.

"Oh, always the gentleman, aren't you," she laughed and took his arm as the two walked down the stairs. People stepped aside for the duo as they gracefully climbed down the stairs; the stray haired male leading the way for most of the route. "Tell me, how many times you have seen William's works?" the queen inquired before stepping up into her carriage. She stood in front of the carriage and folded her gloved.

"Too many times to count, your highness."

"You still cry like a baby too?" she teased before turning to step into the carriage. "Don't stay too late Arthur. I prefer not to have to stir you from your sleep again. The actors will be there tomorrow too."

"Yes, I'll keep that in mind. I will see you tomorrow for our conference then, milady?"

"Yes, until then Arthur, farewell," the queen replied before shutting the carriage door. Arthur watched until he could not see the back of the carriage or hear the footsteps of the horses. He sighed before he turned around and walked back into the theater. Many of the groundlings had already departed from this point along with a good percent of the audience. Arthur was among the few who stayed to watch as the actors gathered the few accessories for the play they had and discuss the play. He watched the actor for Romeo – a man only a couple centimeters taller than him with shoulder length blond, wavy hair that was tied back for his more formal role – gather up the remainder of the props. Arthur stepped back so he wouldn't disturb the actor. He would never admit it, but how the man held himself and crossed the stage with such grace and elegance had captured his heart. He understood Juliet's pain when Romeo died. He too wanted to follow after them. Any other actor and Arthur would never have tears in his eyes upon the death of Romeo or Juliet. He would not be teased for the appearance of many tears either if it was another actor. Somehow, the very person made eye contact with the nervous Briton.

"You're still here, cher?" he asked with a smile, leaning forward. Arthur only noticed now those wonderful blue eyes. He blushed and stumbled backward even more. "The play is over. You don't have to stay you know, unless you enjoy watching me clean up." The actor laughed, causing the one-looker's cheeks to turn a deeper shade of red.

"Of course I don't enjoy watching men running around cleaning up," Arthur scoffed in defense. "I'm just making sure the place is clean for William is all."

"He can do that himself, non? I know that you come to all over the plays," the actor said.

"So?" Arthur spat out, crossing his arms and glancing away. "I happen to really like William's works and you make his works two times better." Of course, he mumbled the last part and it was barely heard when the actor jumped to the level Arthur stood.

"You don't have to say it, cher, I know what you're thinking," the man said as he approached Arthur, who in returned moved backward more.

"W-what do you think, I'm thinking wanker?" he blurted out. The actor laughed wholeheartedly.

"So defensive," he laughed. "No, I can tell my grace and beauty has won you over. Don't worry; it happens to a lot of people." The man pulled his hair out of the tie and smiled. Arthur blushed. That move had made it even worse for him. This actor was even more enchanting when he wasn't in costume.

"W-what if it I did? It's all an act anyway. I would never like an idiot like you," he retorted stubbornly.

"Is that so? Then why won't you look me in the eye again? You had nice green eyes I noticed."

"It's because I don't want to look at your horrid face."

"Ow, that hurt. My face is beautiful. Why else would that silly, British writer put me at the main role?"

"Silly? William is most certainly not silly! He is a great play writer! He's ten times better than any French wr- You're not English, are you?"

"Did you just notice this now? Ah, I must have pulled off a better snobby, British accent than I thought then if you just realized this now."

"I… I noticed it earlier. I just wasn't thinking about it," Arthur commented as he turned away. How could his beloved writer put a French man as Romeo? He felt betrayed. Weren't there better actors that were British? The whole world seemed to revolve around a lie now.

"You're certainly thinking about it now. Your face turned from pink to white in a matter of seconds."

Arthur stumbled backward as he felt the other man's breath very close to his face. He had been mere inches from his face, a distance that Arthur did not find acceptable. "Y-you're seeing things now! My face has always been this color!"

"Is that so? Oh, I never asked," the actor began as he leaned against the stage, "what is your name? I see you with the queen up in your petite booth every day, even when we don't have a performance. No one really seems to mind it and won't tell me either."

"My name?" Arthur asked as he looked at the actor. Why would he care? Did this mean he was not just another face in the audience? He was noticed. He swallowed as his faced turned red again.

"Yes, I never stutter. If you're curious, my name is Francis Bonnefoy," the actor said as he flipped his hair back.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland." The British man froze as Francis stepped forward and took his hand, gently placing a kiss on the top of his cold, trembling hand.

"It's a pleasure to speak you finally and not see you staring simply at moi."

"I… I don't simply stare at you," Arthur managed to said. Words kept getting stuck in his throat the longer he spoke to the man. Damn it! Why was this happening? He never got so choked up before! He never tripped over his words.

"Where art thou Romeo?" laughed another actor from back stage.

Francis frowned and turned toward the stage. "Hold your tongue, I am coming!" he called before turning to Arthur. "Well, I hope to see you again Arthur Kirkland. I'll be keeping an eye out for you. Au revoir." Francis turned and climbed back onto the stage, receiving a small nod from the Briton on the level below him as he gathered the things from the stage.

"Farewell," Arthur muttered as he watched the man leave. He muttered the name of the actor once more before he left the large theater, still holding onto the blush along his cheeks. At this rate, he would be better off living at the theater than at his small home near the palace.


End file.
